


The Four Times Kyungsoo and Jongin Could’ve Met

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3817261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the one time they did. – Kyungsoo/Jongin, university!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Times Kyungsoo and Jongin Could’ve Met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookishvice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishvice/gifts).



> **you were the clouds, and i was the moon** – This fic is for the lovely Amy (bookishvice). Happy belated birthday (!!!!) and I’m sorry that this took so long. I hope that you’ll enjoy! Much thanks to Larry (who also set this whole shindig up and is responsible for all the wonderfulness) and Addie for patching up all my super embarrassing mistakes, and for Ross for giving me her valuable thoughts. They deserve all the love in the world.

**Title:**  The Four Times Kyungsoo and Jongin Could’ve Met  
 **Summary:**  And the one time they did. – Kyungsoo/Jongin, university!AU  
 **Pairing:**  Kyungsoo/Jongin  
 **Genre:**  Romance, Fluff  
 **Word Count:**  5,040  
 **Rating:**  PG-13  
  


**[one]**

  
  
"And on your left –"   
  
Kyungsoo turns, and spots the greying walls of a building hailed by red clay roof tiles and stuccos. There are splashes of paint caking the foyer, a rainbow amid a gloomy sky. A few students and professors are smoking outside the lobby; probably not the best welcoming committee there is, but Kyungsoo doesn’t complain.  
  
" – is the art department. Craziest bunch you'd ever meet," the tour person explains cheerfully. Her hair is dyed a fearsome red. "Their fraternities and sororities throw the best parties on campus. Your college days wouldn't be complete if you never got to crash on at least one. You'd be missing out on a lot."  
  
There are polite bursts of "ahh"s and "I see"s from the freshman crowd. Kyungsoo stifles a yawn with the back of his hand, nodding along.  
  
They cross the unkempt grass and bushes of begonias, surging through the small path leading to the largest building on campus. Judging from the general dreariness and the dazed looks on the men and women in white coats, it must be the S&T department.   
  
The lioness-like senior jerks her thumb towards it. "Engineering majors, natural and applied science courses. To all aforementioned geeks, this is their powerhouse."  
  
"Mitochondria!" a boy from the back pipes up. Nobody reacts.  
  
The guide clears her throat. “And if you would look to your left, way, way over there, the one with the pink flamingos in the front –" She points to the heavily domed establishment. "That's the astronomy tower. But I digress, no one in this living hell knows who named it 'tower' since, as you can see, it’s dwarfed by all the surrounding buildings."  
  
They walk a few meters more, following the path that leads straight to the amphitheater for the rest of the orientation. The spring weather is mild, at best, on their first day of school, which Kyungsoo is grateful for. It took him seven days to recover from his allergies—he was on the brink of getting confined for another week—but he’s back on his feet thanks to his friend Jongdae who definitely knows his way around hay fever (and makes kickass alphabet soup).  
  
As soon as they pass the annex for the graduate school for Journalism, Kyungsoo hears labored breathing beside him, and he squeaks when a heavy hand grips his shoulder.  
  
"Sorry," a boy pants, other palm on his knee. His face is flushed as he tries to keep himself steady. The weight of his hold on Kyungsoo’s shoulder gets increasingly heavy, and Kyungsoo tries not to make a face. "Did I miss much?" the stranger whispers then, his voice raspy.  
  
Kyungsoo opens his mouth to say  _no, no at all_  when the guide cries, "Oh, Jongin-ah!” She grins. “Did you sleep through your alarm clock again? We already went through your department."  
  
The boy—Jongin—manages to send the girl a weak glare while still trying to catch his breath. His hold on Kyungsoo's shoulder doesn't ease. "Wonderful," he mutters dejectedly.  
  
Kyungsoo rummages through his messenger bag and procures a water bottle. He hands it to the other boy wordlessly.  
  
Jongin's eyebrows shoot upwards, his features corkscrewed into that of confusion. Before Kyungsoo could take offense, he removes his hand from Kyungsoo’s shoulder and takes the bottle, spluttering a sheepish "Thanks." A few dribbles escape from the tips of his lips as he chugs it down, and Kyungsoo doesn't have anything better to do than to watch him.  
  
Jongin grins shyly when he hands back the almost empty bottle to him. He settles himself at the back of the crowd, keeping a slow pace. "Major?" he says suddenly, and Kyungsoo only realizes for a second later that the boy is talking to him.  
  
"Art history. Minor in sociology,” Kyungsoo answers politely. “You?"  
  
“European Literature.”  
  
“Ahh.”  
  
They arrive at the gates of the amphitheater hall. The guide counts off one by one as the freshmen enter, sometimes greeting them by their names if she remembers. She smiles winningly at Kyungsoo as she waves for him to enter.  
  
“Yah, you’re in college now,” he hears her say to Jongin. “This is just the campus tour but you’re late again. Promise me you won’t be late for your classes, alright?”   
  
Kyungsoo dares to peeks behind him and catches sight of Jongin pouting as the guide ruffles his auburn hair. Jongin is obviously younger than her.  _Are they dating?_  Kyungsoo wonders, and then shakes his head. He flips through colorful brochures as he goes.  
  
Jongin huffs. “Stop embarrassing me, noona,” he grumbles, and Kyungsoo stops again near the entrance doors to look at them both. Jongin bends over to dodge the girl’s attempts to mess up his gelled-up hair, and the girl laughs merrily as she escorts the last freshman inside.   
  
Take away the flaming red hair and the difference in their skin complexion, and it’s almost impossible to miss the family resemblance.   
  
Kyungsoo snorts discretely. Of course. How silly of him.  
  
“What are you looking at?” Jongin says then, breaking Kyungsoo’s line of thought. His eyes aren’t annoyed or furious but simply inquisitive, his ears tinged with a pretty shade of pink.  
  
Kyungsoo hopes Jongin doesn’t see the mortification flaming his cheeks for getting caught staring. He shakes his head again. “Nothing. Sorry.”  
  
They enter the amphitheater, which is pretty spacious but dark. Kyungsoo trips on the ledge of the stairs with the tip of his boot, and he feels a pair of hands on his shoulders steadying him, the weight of them heavy and familiar on his skin. They’re gone as soon as they came, though, and all Kyungsoo hears is a ghost of a chuckle behind him.  
  
Kyungsoo’s face is still warm as he arrives at his seat, and Jongin takes the seat next to his.  _Umm, the other Lit people are over there at the front_ , he wants to say, but his tongue gets swallowed back to his throat. Maybe Jongin didn’t get to read his brochure. After all, he was late.  
  
The orientation commences with a drag. Kyungsoo’s eyelids droop once, then twice, until his whole brain starts shooting red alert signs. Forcing himself to stay awake, he settles with staring at the lights above until his eyes water, afraid that he might get caught dozing off. Jongin doesn’t seem to have the same trepidation and is snoring without remorse beside him, his mouth open wide enough to attract buzzard wasps (not that he thinks there would be any inside the amphitheater).   
  
“Psst.”  
  
Kyungsoo looks up. He sees the guide at the other end of the isle, flapping her hands and gesturing at her sleeping brother.  
  
‘Wake him up,’ she mouths.  
  
Kyungsoo frowns but does what he’s told. He nudges the boy. “Jongin-ssi. Jongin-ssi,” Kyungsoo hisses, putting a light hand on his knee and shaking his leg. “Your sister…”  
  
Jongin slowly wakes. His eyes flutter open and he scratches his ear in confusion. “Mmrff – what?” he starts, and Kyungsoo tilts his head to the right.  
  
“Jongin-ssi’s sister,” Kyungsoo replies rather blandly. Jongin’s eyes widen. He cranes his neck to stare at her with an irate expression.  _What?_ the murderous look he gives her seems to say.  
  
The girl places a finger on her throat and makes a motion of slicing it.  _Don’t you dare fall asleep again or you’re dead, you brat._  
  
Jongin scowls at her, muttering, “Annoying”, under his breath before crossing his arms. He stares straight at the projector while pouting again. Kyungsoo doesn’t understand even a tiny bit of the situation, but he has to keep his lips from lilting upward once in a while, hopelessly amused.  
  
Kyungsoo’s heart almost jumps out of his chest in surprise when he hears Jongin speak after a while, “She’s part of the student council.”  
  
Kyungsoo nods, accepting the underlying apology. He understands how older siblings can get. Kyungsoo has an older brother named Seungsoo, and he used to be the student body president and all-around Science and Math whiz in the high school he used to go to. Kyungsoo’s high school freshman year was spent crawling through Algebra classes and shattering misplaced expectations from his teachers.  
  
Suddenly, there’s a hand pressed to his forearm. “I’m Kim Jongin, but you probably know that. Or at least my first name, anyway,” he says, and there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that makes Kyungsoo bite his lip unconsciously.  
  
“Hi,” Kyungsoo greets back, taking his hand. He’s about to let go, but Jongin tightens his grip around his fingers.  
  
Jongin laughs. “And you are?” he prompts, beaming still. “You have to tell me your name.”  
  
“Right,” Kyungsoo mumbles. Jongin’s palm is pleasantly warm against Kyungsoo’s, and it’s a bit distracting. He smiles back a bit shamefully. “Do Kyungsoo.”  
  
Jongin grins wider. “Kyungsoo,” he says, like he’s practicing how it would roll off of his tongue. He gives Kyungsoo a look, but it’s gone before Kyungsoo can decipher it. “I owe you a lot of favors today, Kyungsoo.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles.  
  
Kyungsoo shakes his head and lets go. “No, it’s fine.”  
  
“You’re too nice,” Jongin tells him. He stretches back from his seat, his shirt raking up a bit to give Kyungsoo a glimpse of his well-toned stomach. “People might start depending on you too much if you’re like that.”  
  
“… That’s not a problem.”  
  
“Really?” Jongin’s no longer pretending to listen to the speaker, moving his body in order to face Kyungsoo instead. “Even for strangers?” One eyebrow curves upward expectantly.   
  
Kyungsoo can only nod, and Jongin gets that look in his eyes again before he starts grinning. It’s hard to tell with the dim lighting, but Jongin’s expression looks warm and excited. He then peruses something from his paper bag, taking out a piece of paper and writing eleven digits at the back of it with a fountain pen. He hands it to Kyungsoo.  
  
Jongin says bashfully, “I know you like art, but do you like books?”  
  
Kyungsoo’s eyes flicker down to the paper in between Jongin’s fingertips and he takes it. A bookstore opening sale. 8 am to 6 pm. Kyungsoo can easily make out the mobile number that’s been inked at the back.  
  
 _My last class ends at three in the afternoon_  is the first thought that crosses Kyungsoo’s mind, and he blushes at this. He’s not exactly a wide reader despite being having a minor in sociology, but it’s not something he can’t see himself being. And the new bookstore is just around the corner, a fifteen minute walk or so from his dorm. Maybe they sell books about Kahlo at half the price. Kyungsoo knows he’ll need one for this semester.  
  
Jongin waits for his answer patiently, and Kyungsoo tries to hide his fidgeting by wedging the paper into the back pocket of his jeans. He wants to look like he’s at least thinking about it.  
  
“I’ll text you,” Kyungsoo chooses to answer, and Jongin breaks into another warm smile.  
  
  


**[two]**

  
  
  
There’s a gentle knock on the door. It takes about a few measured breaths before Kyungsoo steels himself to turn the knob, a vein pulsing prominently in his neck. Sleep-deprived or not, Kyungsoo is out for blood.  
  
He jerks the door open. “You little fucker! I thought we were– oh. O-oh.”  
  
Someone who is definitely not Byun Baekhyun gapes at him, jaws slack in surprise. He’s taller than Baekhyun and much taller than Kyungsoo, and he’s carrying four hardbound textbooks on one hand that are probably heavy enough to catapult Kyungsoo to Fiji.  
  
The boy adjusts his wire-framed glasses, like Kyungsoo’s outburst disturbed it. “Umm, are you Do Kyungsoo?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s me.” Kyungsoo grimaces. “Sorry. I was waiting for someone who’s an hour and a half late.” He glances at his wrist watch and groans. “Make that an hour and forty-five minutes. I’m going to kill him. Anyway, is there something I could help you with?”  
  
“I’m Jongin. Kim Jongin,” the boy says, bowing and introducing himself in a rather quiet and timid way that it makes Kyungsoo feel even guiltier. “I’m Baekhyunnie’s roommate.”  
  
“Oh. Jongin-ssi?” Kyungsoo’s cheeks start to color when he suddenly remembers that Baekhyun told him he would be bringing someone along to study with them at the dorm common area. He also remembers his dumb, past self instantly agreeing, as long as Baekhyun would be there to do all the talking for him. “Right. Yeah. Hello.” He moves from the doorway to let Jongin pass and he watches as the other boy plonks down the heavy books on the table with a loud thud.  
  
Almost like he heard the question in Kyungsoo’s head, Jongin explains, “He couldn’t come because he’s out with Chanyeol and Yixing.”  
  
Kyungsoo grumbles. Fuck Baekhyun, that crazy son of a bitch. “He’s always blowing me off to go clubbing. I should’ve known,” Kyungsoo sighs. He sits on the chair across from Jongin and starts opening his laptop.  
  
The only sounds that disturb the air are the twittering of the keys as Kyungsoo’s fingers press on them, and the rapid flipping of textbook pages. Kyungsoo drinks—more like inhales—another mug of coffee while he sneaks a few glances or two at the person in front of him. He first notices the color of Jongin’s skin, which is a rich kind of chocolate cream, about a few shades lighter than his hair. They’re around the same age but Jongin is taller, and looks leaner and more muscular. Kyungsoo purses his lips on the rim of his mug thoughtfully, wondering if he should start hitting the gym soon.  
  
Jongin looks up before Kyungsoo could turn away. His thick eyebrows knot together. “Is there something wrong, Kyungsoo-ssi?” he begins.  
  
Kyungsoo almost chokes on his own spit at the sound of his name. “I don’t know how to make a CMap out of this,” he splutters. Kyungsoo’s not lying. He’s been reworking the presentation for half a day already and it’s making his head ache. “Baekhyun’s got a hand of this stuff more than I do, so –”  
  
Jongin drags his chair to the empty spot next to Kyungsoo before he could finish, his fingers stretching and hovering on Kyungsoo’s laptop.  
  
He gives Kyungsoo’s presentation a once over. “This is a snap,” Jongin reassures him and gets to work.  
  
Their upper arms press together as they huddle in front of the laptop screen. Kyungsoo watches as Jongin drags the pointer over the header, copying and pasting Kyungsoo’s data discussion and thesis statement to the appropriate dialogue boxes. The map goes wider as Jongin scrolls down, unveiling another empty box where Kyungsoo could paste the remaining scope of his report.  
  
“Could you put that timeline over there?” Kyungsoo gestures at the chart he made a few nights ago. Jongin nods, presses a few keys, and the chart realigns itself at exactly the right spot where Kyungsoo wants it to: one point five inches from the left margin and two inches from the right. Kyungsoo can’t help but make an awed noise tumble from his lips.   
  
“You did that so fast,” Kyungsoo exclaims. “Baekhyun and I would take three hours arguing about which goes where before we got anywhere as close to this.”  
  
“I use CMaps for my literary theory class all the time,” Jongin explains, his breath perhaps a bit too warm for Kyungsoo’s ear.   
  
Kyungsoo finally notices how close they are leaning to each other from their shadowy reflection on the screen, and he inches away to give Jongin some space. He lets out a stilted chuckle. “Thanks, Jongin-ssi.”  
  
Jongin nods, smiling. “If you need any help, I’m just a seat away.” He flashes him a sly wink, and Kyungsoo feels brave enough to laugh and roll his eyes.  
  
A few minutes later, Jongin’s head peeks cutely out of a book. “Hey.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Jongin’s lips pucker, before saying, “I’m glad to have met another one of Baekhyun’s friends.” He looks a bit strained shy when he tells Kyungsoo this, and Kyungsoo laughs as he runs a hand through his hair. He feels something akin to happy warmth spreading to his toes.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry for yelling at you before.”  
  
Jongin shrugs. “Baekhyun’s ditched me a couple of times that I know the feeling.” He pauses shortly, running a set of healthy white teeth on the flush of his bottom lip, and then asks, “Can I call you Kyungsoo? Just Kyungsoo?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Kyungsoo agrees immediately. He turns back to his laptop and types. “Call me whatever you want, Jongin.”  
  
  
  


**[three]**

  
  
  
“Can I sit here?”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have to. He nods, just vaguely, refusing to take his eyes off from his pile of notes.  
  
The boy pulls out a chair and takes the seat opposite from him, placing his steaming cup of WhiteLine vanilla honey next to Kyungsoo’s plain cappuccino. The university café is especially crowded today, so Mr. Can-I-Sit-Here can’t take his usual seat by the counter – in the middle of all people, but with his back turned to every one of them. Kyungsoo sniffs airily.  
  
What does Kyungsoo know about him, anyway? He doesn’t even know his name. Kyungsoo only sees him when he’s ready to commit genocide for a cup of steaming hot coffee to pull off an all-nighter, and the boy is always there at the counter, alone and looking bored.   
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t get it. The young man just sits there, usually on weeknights, staring at the poorly maintained windows of the café, like he’s seeking answers from the clouds. Kyungsoo sometimes lets his eyes linger on his figure for a while, perhaps waiting for a moment for the spell to break. But it doesn’t.  
  
He’s convinced that the stranger’s just waiting around for someone to pick him up. All the dumb ones fall for that trap, but Kyungsoo doesn’t buy that bullshit.  
  
“What are you reading?”   
  
Kyungsoo freezes, and then pats the page he’s reading to recollect himself. “Does it matter?” he grits, hoping the man is not impervious to the waves of animosity he’s sending him. “And I don’t do small talk, so it’s pointless.”  
  
It doesn’t seem to discourage the man, though. From the corner of Kyungsoo’s eye, he sees a smirk playing at the man’s lips. “I don’t think it’s pointless,” the stranger claims, and he succeeds in getting Kyungsoo’s attention by sliding a box of Krispy Kreme donuts to his direction. They’re honey-glazed.   
  
Kyungsoo looks up at this in shock. It’s his favorite.  
  
“Hi,” the man says, his lips arched, and the smile is genuine that it makes him look almost handsome. “I’m Jongin. And you’re Kyungsoo, right?”  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t drop the act and continues to glare at him. “I don’t like bribery,” he says pointedly. “And I’m reading about Matisse. Now go somewhere else.”  
  
Jongin laughs this time, showing all his teeth. “You’re so cute,” he says, and Kyungsoo’s fingers curl up to his palm to stop himself from blushing to the roots of his hair.  
  
Kyungsoo hates guys like him.   
  
  
  


**[four]**

  
  
  
It’s four-thirty pm. Kyungsoo forgot that the university council open forum will be held today at the auditorium at the basement of the establishment, and so he meanders through the thick crowd in front of the library, trying to get inside. He gets his butt groped somewhere in the sea of students, something he thought would only happen in a cramped train or a bar.  
  
Kyungsoo finally gets to breathe when the lady guard lets him through, and he immediately heads for the second floor where he reserved a study room for himself.  
  
He plunges in the key he got from the personnel, but surprises himself when the door swings open easily.  
  
“Oh,” Kyungsoo exhales.  
  
He enters the cold room. The orange afternoon light streams from the flaps in between the curtains, casting shadows as tall as cycads. There’s someone inside, a young man snoozing on the only single desk of the room. Nothing moves except for the steady rise and fall of the man’s back. Kyungsoo slowly walks around the table to get a good look at his face.   
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t know him, definitely. He’d have to be an amnesiac to forget such a pair of wonderfully shaped lips pouting innocently at rest. The man’s styled hair droops low to cover half of his forehead, and there’s a book page sticking to the side of his jaw.   
  
Kyungsoo checks his watch. It’s exactly five o’ clock. He reserved this room for five o’ clock.   
  
The man shivers, curling up even more in his seat, and Kyungsoo hesitates. Should he wake him up?  
  
Shaking his head, Kyungsoo sighs and looks around. He presses the remote for the heater and turns the temperature up to a comfortable level. He then pries the book away from the man’s face as gently as he can, making sure that Kyungsoo won’t rouse him, and nods approvingly at the title.  _The Once and Future King_. At least the guy has taste.  
  
He dog-ears page 223 for the stranger before closing it shut. Kyungsoo then takes a seat opposite him and gets to work, careful not to bump his knees against the man’s.   
  
  


**[start]**

  
  
  
He can’t see him properly, when they first meet.  
  
The intense glare of the fluorescent lights is not forgiving as it beams down on Kyungsoo’s eyes. At the other end of the hall, Kyungsoo recognizes a classmate. Judging from the almost rigid stance and the way the person is shifting all of his weight on his leg, its Kim Junmyeon. Every person in the theater program is wondering how long Junmyeon would hold up, with an injury as massive as his. People have already been questioning his conviction towards his dream, some his sanity, but Kyungsoo quietly admires the man’s persistence.  
  
The other person with Junmyeon is—well, Kyungsoo doesn’t know who he is, which throws him off for a moment. He’s only transferred to the university for a few months, but there aren’t that many people who took up theater. It helps that Kyungsoo is good at remembering faces, postures, and body languages. His eyesight is shit, but he’s trained himself well enough not to need the prescribed thick-lensed glasses most of the time.  
  
“Kyungsoo!” Junmyeon’s voice echoes inside the room. He looks like he’s waving his hand, while the other person beside him seems absolutely terrified. Kyungsoo narrows his eyes to get a better look.  
  
Junmyeon seems to be tagging the boy along with him a little harshly, his hand heavy on the person’s arm. “You’re not being polite,” Junmyeon quickly whispers to the boy beside him before flashing Kyungsoo a welcoming smile. “Kyungsoo-ssi, won’t you eat with us? We’re going out for dinner.”  
  
Before Kyungsoo can open his mouth to answer, he hears the younger boy mutter to Junmyeon, “Did you see that, hyung? He was glaring at me, I swear. I don’t want to eat with this hyung!”  
  
“Relax, Jongin. He’s not scary. You even heard Chanyeol say so,” Junmyeon replies, all hushed, before turning to Kyungsoo and giving him an almost choked, awkward chuckle. “So, Kyungsoo? What do you say?”  
  
At this distance, Kyungsoo can finally see him: dark brown eyes under clipped, black lashes, a baseball cap over unkempt hair, tan skin over gangly limbs. Graceful neck and worn-out shoes. A towel stuffed in the front pocket. A dancer.  _Kim Jongin._  
  
“Sorry,” he declines as politely as he can, trying for a smile. “I think I’d be heading home after I freshen up. You guys just go ahead without me.”  
  
Both of them seem surprised at Kyungsoo’s answer, but for different reasons. “Okay,” Junmyeon says. “Maybe next time.”  
  
Kyungsoo turns away, not wanting to be subjected under that strange, questioning look from the dancer’s disconcerting eyes. “Sure,” he mumbles.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t watch them leave the training room and goes back to tying his shoelaces.  
  
  
  


********

  
  
  
"Kyungsoo hyung."  
  
Kyungsoo stiffens. He recognizes that voice, and he almost dizzies himself when he turns his head abruptly. Jongin seems taken aback too at his own words, although he covers himself up by saying it again, "Hyung. Kyungsoo hyung."  
  
"Yes?" Kyungsoo calls back, a bit confused. He swears that it wasn’t more than thirty minutes ago when Junmyeon and this Jongin boy walked out of the theater room. He looks around, his towel draped around his neck as he dries his hair. “Did you forget something, Jongin?”   
  
“Umm, no. T-that’s not it.”  
  
Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows in displeasure. Is he really  _that_  scary? “Is there something wrong?” he asks as gently as he could.   
  
"Would you like to eat?” Jongin blurts after a second. “Not outside but, umm, just here. With me. I bought snacks.” He holds up a paper bag and shuffles from foot to foot. “Do you like carp bread?” Jongin looks like he's dying.  
  
Kyungsoo doesn’t know how to react. After blinking a few times, he nods.   
  
Jongin looks hilariously relieved by this small affirmation, and brings out two juice boxes and a pack of carp bread from the bag. Kyungsoo hangs the wet towel at the corner rung to dry, and they make a make-shift circle on the shiny wooden floor. Kyungsoo shuffles his butt a little closer to where Jongin is seated.  
  
“I thought you were out with Junmyeon,” Kyungsoo says.  
  
With his neck distinctly red, Jongin hands him a juice box and flashes Kyungsoo a small smile, and it’s all the answer Kyungsoo needs.   
  
He waits first for Jongin to take a bite before eating his own. The bread is very warm and the filling tangy against his tongue, and Kyungsoo pictures Jongin crossing the busy street in front of campus just to buy a couple of pieces from an old vendor.   
  
Kyungsoo holds back a grin by taking another bite.  
  


**[final]**

  
  
It’s quiet in the afternoon.   
  
For some reason, there aren’t that many students wandering around the school grounds. As Kyungsoo sets out the sandwiches he’s made on the table, it strikes him that the others must be studying for exams.  
  
“Hey, Jongin. Aren’t you supposed to be back in the practice room?”  
  
Jongin looks up from the book he’s reading. It’s another mystery-thriller novel, the kind that would probably bore Kyungsoo way before he even gets to the second chapter. “I’m taking a break from rehearsing,” he answers with a smile. “You said this is your only free day, right?”  
  
Kyungsoo fights back a blush and wrinkles his nose. “I forgot how different the timetables of our departments are.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” Jongin chuckles and dog ears the page before stuffing it inside his backpack. He then stretches his fingers over to Kyungsoo’s hand and keeps it there. “You’ve always made time for me, hyung.”  
  
Being under the shade of a linden tree in such a peaceful day after such a stressful week of callbacks – Kyungsoo has to admit that this is nice. Jongin’s warm hand squeezing his feels nice. “You’re not making this easy for me, Jongin. I’m going to graduate in two months.”  
  
“I know. That’s why I’m making sure you’re going to get as anxious as I am not seeing you on campus.” Jongin grins wolfishly. “You’re going to be so miserably in love with me that you’ll never want us separated from each other again.”  
  
Kyungsoo makes a gagging noise. “You just want me to clean up after you when I finally get a job that would pay for an apartment big enough for the both of us.”  
  
Jongin pokes his tongue out. “That too. Blame’s on you for pampering me too much.”  
  
“You awful brat –”  
  
“I love you,” Jongin mumbles shyly, looking down. His fingers trace the lines on Kyungsoo’s palm, leaving a trail of warmth there. It leads straight to Jongin’s heart, beating calmly and earnestly against the thundering pulse on Kyungsoo’s wrist. “You know that, right?”  
  
Kyungsoo exhales, finally. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”  
  
Jongin tilts his head to look at him and smiles. Kyungsoo hopelessly navigates through the mangled state of his thoughts and says, “Even if you didn’t like me at first, I’m glad that…” He coughs. “You know…”  
  
“You really love bringing that up,” Jongin groans and pinches him. “I can’t believe you’d say that after I told you I –”  
  
“I’ve never been great with first impressions,” Kyungsoo cuts in, cheeks flushing hard now. “You don’t know how difficult it is with strangers thinking that you’re plotting to murder them when you’re actually struggling to ask them where the bathroom is.”  
  
“Well, thanks for breaking the moment and making me feel all guilty and stuff,” Jongin says before snickering. Little birds are gathering at the far end of the table, watching the spectacle with beady eyes (or perhaps waiting for the two men to leave so they could scavenge on the crumbs of sandwiches). “I did think of you as the gloomy theater kid who hates everyone. Not that you’re not anymore, but you get what I mean, right?”  
  
“Well, I definitely don’t hate you,” Kyungsoo grumbles. “What I meant to say is that I’m glad. I’m glad that you’re willing to wait for me, is all.”  
  
“My love for you can reach London, hyung, don’t fret.  _Phantom of the Opera_  won’t be the same without you.”  
  
“Does that mean you’re going to make me suffer when Paris kidnaps you again?” Kyungsoo muses out loud, and Jongin laughs and stretches over the table to plant a kiss on the elder’s forehead.   
  
“We’ll take over Europe, hyung, one dream after another,” Jongin says with a gleam in his eyes. “It’ll be the greatest story ever told.”  
  
“Right, right. But we’ll have to graduate first.”  
  
“Yes we do,” Jongin says before grinning smugly. “Watch me ace all my finals, hyung. I’d snag that spot on the showcase and have everyone eat dust.”  
  
Kyungsoo wets his lip and chuckles. Jongin didn’t even have to say it – Kyungsoo had watched him prepare for the showcase in the practice room countless times. Jongin had been brighter than the ceiling lights. Just like always.  
  
“Go get them, tiger,” Kyungsoo says with fake nonchalance, and Jongin takes his hand again.


End file.
